


Page Ten

by WhiskyTangoFoxtrot



Series: Up For Grabs [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4521192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskyTangoFoxtrot/pseuds/WhiskyTangoFoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hey, you guys, there's ten pages of fic for our OTP!</p>
<p>Which inspired this silly little celebratory fic. It's short. And I think it might be fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Page Ten

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, no Beta means there might be mistakes.
> 
> There might be a Buffy reference. Spot it, and i'll fill a prompt.
> 
> I know this story is silly, and maybe a little OOC? I dunno, I'm just glad it's out of my brain.

The newest issue of the Randy Dowager's Quarterly circulates Skyhold like a particularly virulent plague. The first story is the steamiest thing they've published in ages, and it features a tall, leggy, armored redhead and a devilishly handsome, snarky Dwarven rogue with a heart of gold. They spend the first nine pages arguing and raising hell across the Fereldan countryside, but when the gentle reader turns to page ten, well...that's when it gets really interesting.

The forthright Andrastian heroine and the smartass Dwarf find themselves locked in the basement of a castle, entirely safe for the moment, but without an escape route. Their relationship is equal parts active dislike and contained lust, and they are having a vocal disagreement when suddenly, they kiss. It's the Randy Dowager, so of course what follows is an entirely graphic love scene, complete with descriptions of leverage, positions, et cetera.

Dorian is, of course, vastly amused by the little similarities between the protagonists of this tale and their very own Seeker of Truth and resident Author, and so when he finishes reading it, he strolls down the stairs and drops the magazine onto Varric's desk. The dwarf grunts at him, irritated. "What's that? I'm kind of busy."

"I'm sure you know what this is." The Mage replies smugly.

"The Randy Dowager's Quarterly. I've seen it. It's crap." Varric picks up his quill again and begins to write a letter.

Dorian clucks his tongue. "Don't play coy with me, Varric."

Varric rolls his eyes. "I'm not playing coy, I just don't like the RDQ. Too many hack writers and too many terrible penis metaphors. I'm sure the guy who wrote Hard in Hightown II is a regular contributor, the shitstain."

"So you didn't write this?" Dorian picks up the magazine. Emblazoned on the cover, are a red-haired maiden with a braid twisted around her head, wrapped in a torrid embrace with a dwarf with golden hair and a scar across his nose. In the background, a crossbow leans against a sword and shield. 

The edition's title is printed in gold leaf, and it reads _The Quaestor and Her Scribe_ , and Varric says his first thought aloud. "Sweet, asshole Maker, she's gonna murder me."

Just then, a howl erupts from the smithy, loud enough that the two men share a look. Dorian is sympathetic, but Varric grabs his quills and his vellum. Dorian asks, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take this like a man." Varric replies, brushing a lock of reddish hair behind his ear. He jumps down from his seat and, arms full, begins to cross the hall towards the Undercroft. "And hide." As he trots away, he shouts to Dorian over his shoulder, "Don't tell her where I went!" 

Loud footsteps resound on the stone risers between the upper courtyard and the Great Hall, but Varric is already pulling open the heavy wooden door at the very far end on the right. He doesn't even pause to Marvel at he workmanship of the great stained glass windows before he ducks into it and begins to descend the stairwell. He brushes past Dagna and Harritt, and makes his way to another set of stairs, leading down to the pools beneath the waterfall. 

He is nothing if not crafty, and he's been into these tunnels before. At the time, he'd really been looking for a hiding spot to escape the Seeker after he'd written to Hawke. He had not used them then, deciding instead to run to Trevelyan. The Inquisitor had made him face Cassandra, and it was an experience he would rather not relive.

The whole hiding thing would not be so unbearably shitty _if he had actually written the damned story._ He strolls into a small warren of caves, and smiles at the hissing roar of the waterfall that splashes a little through the small gap in the rocks a few feet behind him. A small puddle is the beginning of a tiny river flow out from under under the makeshift window, and he carefully steps over it, so as not to make wet footprints as he descends deeper into the caverns. The floor slopes downward, and at the second opportunity he turns left, into a small alcove that has a flat, waist-high (on him) ledge jutting out of the rock. 

Under the ledge, sitting in the flow of water, are three bottles of Dwarven stout. They are the perfect drinking temperature, so he opens one and sets it back in the corner of his ledge, using the bottle to weigh down his paper. It makes a water ring, but he's writing a letter to Hawke, who will find his current situation endlessly amusing. The quill is scratching across the paper, and he can vaguely hear the Undercroft door slam in the distance. He winces, but is confident the Seeker won't find him down here. This particular group of caverns has very low ceilings, and he sincerely doubts her desire to crouch, even if it means finally getting her hands around his neck.

So Varric relaxes, lights the candle on the wall, and the scratch of quill across paper soothes him, even as he describes his flight from the main hall, and what he's going to do to the individual who wrote that tawdry shit piece about them. _What an asshole,_ he writes, _and I'm going to string him up by his nuts. Yes I know me stringing someone up isn't that high, but if it wasn't The Iron Bull himself, I will get him to help me. Seriously, who does that? Do you know if someone took a hit out on me? If the Davris finally get me killed like this, I'll die impressed._

Hands grasp his shoulders and turn him around, shoving him roughly into the adjoining wall. He is face to face with Cassandra, who is snarling at him. Varric can't help himself, and he realizes she might actually strangle him, but he grins rakishly and drawls, "Something on your mind, Seeker?"

Her fingers twist the collar of his shirt, lifting him up onto his toes. "How dare you?" Cassandra spits. Her eyes glitter in the dim flicker of the candle, and her cheekbones are set in sharp contrast. She is terrifying and furious and _fucking gorgeous_ and he can't stop the sharp intake of breath at the realization. "How could you mock me in this way?"

Varric's mouth hangs open and he doesn't stay anything. Cassandra shoves him harder against the wall. "Answer me, you little shit!"

He collects himself enough to stammer, "I--I didn't. Seeker, I swear, I would never--"

"Lies!" She shouts. Her hands inch closer to his throat. Varric is pressed up against her, between her warm body and the cold wall, and he realizes she's not wearing her armor. She smells of leather and oil and sweat, and he reaches up to grab her hands, and plays a card he'd been saving for an emergency.

He's known for a long time that he's physically stronger than she is, but he's never taken advantage of it, instead generally avoiding any mention of the topic. So when he easily pulls her hands off his collar, and grasps her wrists, she is stunned. His right foot darts out, knocking hers from beneath her, and Cassandra lands hard on the ledge with a gasp. Varric is holding her hands while she struggles and he kicks her knees apart to get closer. They're face to face now, and the new perspective changes something between them. Varric speaks, slowly, careful to only look in her eyes. "Cassandra," he begins.

The Seeker looks down at his mouth, at the way he says her name. He's never called her by name before, and it is entirely fascinating. She watches his mouth move while he keeps talking. "I would never, ever do that to you. Never." He's a little out of breath now, from her struggling against him, and from being pressed up against her. "Do you really think I dislike you that much?"

The question forces her to pause. She stops struggling and focuses on him. He is peering straight at her, with the most sincere expression he has ever worn in her presence. "I would not question it if you did." Cassandra seems surprised by her proximity to him. "You should let go of me."

"I really should." He agrees. But he doesn't let go. If anything, he inches a little closer to her. "I really, really should."

"Varric," she says, shaking her wrists in his grasp. He shakes his head at her, and smiles a little, and now Cassandra is very, very nervous. Her heart races. It feels like it is about to beat out of her chest and for some reason, her hips scoot forward a bit, catching the edge of a half-scribbled piece of vellum.

His smirk widens as he says, still holding her arms, "I'm going to do this, Seeker, and you can slap my face off my skull later."

Varric pushes Cassandra's hands down to her sides, and links his fingers into hers. He leans forward and kisses her mouth, softly at first, but then she whimpers and kisses him back. She's kissing him back and it's marvelous, full of promises, as he lets go of her hands to wrap his arms around her. She coils her long limbs around him, and when the kiss breaks, his nose trails down her neck to her collarbone. She is still holding him as she says wryly, "I don't think I'll be slapping you. Today."

He doesn't let go either. "I hope it's clear that I don't dislike you."

He's still smiling as she answers, breathless, "Very."

"And you don't dislike me." 

It's not a question, but Cassandra nods. "Quite the opposite, I think."

He hums and rests his forehead against hers. "Is that right?"

"There's really only the one way to shut you up, isn't there?" She asks, eyes crinkling with mirth.

"Holy shit, Seeker, are you _teasing_ me?"

They are laughing as their lips meet again, and it is quiet in the cavern.

7777

A few weeks later, Varric receives a letter from Kirkwall.

_Varric,_

_Did you really send me a half-finished letter with the Seeker's ass print on it? How did you convince her to sign it?  
_Wow you know what I just figured out how....never mind. Hope you're happy, anyways, she's one hell of a woman. Just ah, don't let her run you through when you're finished running her through. Be safe.__

(The rest of the letter is gossip about their friends, but Varric keeps it anyway, after showing it to Cassandra. She promises not to run Varric through, and snorts at the innuendo.)

7777

Josephine strolls out of her office, and across the Great Hall to the rotunda. She waves at Varric, and smiles at Cassandra, who has taken her now usual seat, cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire. She reflects that they actually make quite the fetching couple, in all their contrast. She pulls the door open and heads up to the rookery. 

Leliana is sitting at her desk, and when she spies her Antivan friend, her eyes twinkle and she tilts her head toward the door. Josephine smiles, and follows her outside to the balcony. When the door shuts, Leliana turns to Josephine and says, "I have a letter from my love."

"From the Hero of Ferelden?" Josie gasps. "Leliana, that's wonderful news!" And then the ambassador pauses, and turns to stare at Leliana. "The Hero of Fereldan. Who is a blond dwarf. Who favors a crossbow."

"I don't know what you mean," Leliana smiles. 

Josephine's laughter rings down through the courtyard merrily. She grips her sides, and tears run down her face, and soon enough Leliana joins her, after saying, "He insists that's not what happened in the castle."

**Author's Note:**

> This idea just popped into my head when I saw we got to ten pages of Cass and Varric! I'm still working on the big project, but holy hell its hard to do with Captain Toddlerpants all over the place.
> 
> I love the notion of our characters enjoying writing smut as much as some of us do :)


End file.
